The Vanishing Closet
by De Warre
Summary: Malfoy has been up to no good, and Harry is there to take the fall. Again. SLASHY THEMES warning.
1. Chapter 1

The headmaster's office looked much like he remembered it, yet there was something decidedly wrong with it. Fawkes' perch had been removed, and some of the more colorful objects on the Dumbledore's desk seemed to be missing. It was...unsettling. For a brief moment Harry considered the possibility that the Ministry of Magic might have managed to remove the eccentric headmaster from his post once again, but then dismissed the idea. Only Fudge was that stupid.

He walked over to the desk, steps soft and soundless, a part of his brain warning to stay on the alert. He traced the wood with his fingers.

Was it just him, or did the wood feel somehow smoother than he remembered it?

The sound of the door swinging open caused him to swirl around. Heart leaping into his throat, he had his wand out before his mind properly registered it. The man entering barely had time to widen his eyes in chock before he was flying through the air. A vague part of Harry felt satisfied at the scream he made, but then the realization hit in. He rushed forward, through the doorway he'd sent the wizard flying.

"My god, are you alright?" he asked, freezing at the doorway, finding a wand pointed at him.

The man coughed, slowly picking himself off the floor, wand-hand never wavering. "Who are you, and how ever did you get inside the office?"

Harry hesitated; he did not recognize this man. For a complete stranger he seemed oddly comfortable within the castle, even going as far as claiming to know Harry did not belong in the office. It was true...he had appeared there at the whim of the vanishing cabinet, which Malfoy had found pleasure in pushing him into, but one would think it wasn't completely implausible to find the Boy-Who-Lived in the headmaster's office. Except...Harry had cursed him.

"Sorry, I didn't meant to, uh, curse you. You just-GUAH!"

Harry made a sudden dive to the left, avoiding the binding curse by a hair strand. He rolled back onto his feet, just in time to shield another ray of light flying at him.

"Stop! I said I was sorry," Harry said.

The wizard had swung himself on his feet and his mouth mumbled spells without pause. Harry used his skills from quidditch to the extreme, dodging left and right and diving behind the desk to stay out of their range, and for every second that passed the wizard seemed to grow angrier, his moves getting sharper and stronger, the lines around his mouth growing tighter.

It wasn't until one of the cups on the headmaster's table exploded that the man paused in his spell casting. Harry, who had been in the motion of pushing a chair in between himself and the next spell, stilled, faltering when he saw how white the man's face had become.

"M-My lord," he stuttered.

Harry blinked, unconsciously lowering the chair at the same time. He looked at the man, then at the broken cup, and then at the man again.

The man looked ready to cry.

"I-I'm sure it can be fixed. If you ask McGonagall, she's sure to be able return it to its original stat-"

"Silence!" the man shouted, and Harry started reflexively, but it seemed the man had forgotten his original pursue.

Harry shifted nervously. His instincts told him to run, but he wasn't sure if it was alright to leave a man who looked ready to break down on his own. Would he be responsible for murder if the guy suddenly got all Kamikaze and committed suicide? Just because it was unlikely did _not _mean it was impossible. He'd learned that the hard way, being the Boy-Who-Lived an all.

Fortunately he was saved from deciding, when a second man walked into the office.

"Oh, thank god! This-this person just broke down and I don't know what to do, because he looked like he might have some, ah, less healthy thoughts in mind and did not want to risk it-" Harry stopped. His mind seemed to have taken to a stop as well, or else he was going completely nutters.

Crimson eyes narrowed, looking at the man kneeling on the floor just briefly before being directed at him. Harry flinched.

"Explain, Dolohov," Voldemort, looking far more human than Harry remembered him, yet easily recognizable, ordered.

His opinion of Malfoy suddenly hit an all time low.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you Stardust of Orion and Yume. You two make me so happy. My two first reviews! Party! _

He felt oddly faint and his brain was fuzzy, like a cotton ball. Had Hogwarts been captured? He could not think of any other reason for Voldemort to be standing in Dumbledore's office like he belonged there. And in the name of Merlin, he could not even begin to guess how they had managed with it so soon. Unless...

"Time travel," Harry realized.

Voldemort and Dolohov turned to face him.

"Excuse me?" Voldemort asked.

It made sense. The vanishing closet was notorious for its tendency to throw people into unlikely places, at unlikely times. Harry had been just one of its victims. No doubt it was exactly what Malfoy had had in mind, the blonde ferret.

"You said something about time travel, I believe. Would you care to elaborate?"

It meant he had only seconds to attack, before Voldemort realized it was him.

"Expell-" he started, but was interrupted by a spell to his chest.

Harry let out a strangled scream as a ray of light struck him straight on, propelling him through the air. He hit the bookcases lined along the wall with enough strength to send an elephant flying, yet they barely budged, his ribs giving out instead and a dozen of books raining down on him when he fell to the floor. He gasped for air, heart beating faster, and panic raising its ugly head.

This was not how it was supposed to happen! He had his mother's protection, and Voldemort could not touch him-

Long and cool fingers squeezed onto his chin, lifting it, and Harry's breath hitched.

"Listen carefully, because I will tell you only once; If you raise your wand against me a second time, you will find your heart stopping before you finish the thought running through your head. "

It could not be true. The thought repeated over and over again in his mind. He could not believe it to be true, did not want to believe it to be true. Had Voldemort come up with a way to bypass the blood protection too?

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, and the fingers on Harry's chin tightened, the boy groaning at the painfulness of the movement to his ribs as he was forced to lean forward. He flailed around desperately, uselessly, until he found himself looking straight into Voldemort's crimson orbs at a closer proximity than he would ever have cared to experience.

"I, uh, don't swing that way-"

"Silence," Voldemort ordered, and Harry's mouth snapped shut.

Okay, so maybe Snape wasn't a complete quack. The man _had _said that training Harry was useless, and that he would never be able to face the dark lord in a duel even if he had a century to prepare. It had been pure luck when he'd been one years old, and with the troll, and Quirrel, and at the triwizarding tournament and... Anyway! The point was that he didn't even have the blood protection anymore and he-

"How do you do it?" Voldemort demanded.

Harry blinked. "Do what?"

"Hide your mind, you silly child! Do not play me for a fool, your body cannot take the consequences," Voldemort said, looking like he might start shaking Harry by the collar if he did not speak.

"I'm not," Harry said.

"You most certainly are."

"Am not."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. He stared at the boy in front of him for a few seconds, before trying another tactic. "How did you enter my office?" he asked instead.

"It's not yours!" Harry said immediately. "It's Dumbledore's-and even if he died, it would never be yours. Hogwarts would never accept you as its headmaster, and neither would the students—AAH!"

Voldemort let go, having twisted Harry's head in to an unnatural position.

"My apologies."

"...Did your hand slip?"

"I am afraid so."

Harry sent the dark lord his most poisonous glare. It was met without hesitation.

"_Albus," _Voldemort said, uttering the name with such spite that Harry feared Dumbledore might drop dead from it alone. "Has never been in possession of this office, and will hopefully never need to be. Should it be your wish to speak with him you will find his office beyond the featherman on the second floor."

"As for the students..." Voldemort fell silent, thinking.

_A/N: Aaand...that's where we pause for today. This story is something of a daily project, written during the slow hours at work or school, so the chapters are likely to be rather short but frequent, and possibly ending at odd places. Bear with me. _

_Also, I am scared shitless of your comments, but appreciate very, very much if you take the time to write one. _


	3. Chapter 3

"As for the students..." Voldemort fell silent, thinking. "They don't get to decide."

Yes, it felt like the kind of logic a dark lord would use. Hermione would have been horrified. Harry decided it would be to his advantage to play along for now, since Voldemort did not seem too intent on recognizing him.

"I don't know how I ended up in the headmaster's office," Harry said.

"Liar," Voldemort said.

"It's true! I-well, I was kind of pushed into a magical closet."

Voldemort looked interested. "A...magical closet made you appear in the headmaster's office, the most protected part of a school established by the four strongest wizards of modern history and strengthened by every headmaster since? You just...appeared?"

Harry nodded carefully.

"Something akin to apparition?" Voldemort asked.

"I suppose," Harry agreed.

"Impossible," Voldemort said immediately.

"It's true! It really did happen."

"I will listen to no more nonsense. Dolohov, how did he get inside?"

"Uh, sir," Dolohov started, rubbing his neck nervously.

"Dolohov," Voldemort said in a warning voice. "Are you telling me you did not notice a..." Voldemort looked at Harry. "A _child _sneaking in in your footsteps?"

"I'm not a child," Harry said.

"I didn't let him in! He cursed me the moment I opened the door," Dolohov said.

Voldemort's eyebrows furrowed. Harry resisted the smug look that wanted to creep on his face. Voldemort turned to Harry.

"Very well. Assuming that you did indeed enter my office through a..._magical closet,_" Voldemort said. "You will stay within the castle until a proper investigation has been conducted. I'm sure you understand. It is for the students' continued safety."

It sounded wonderful. Harry didn't think he could have planned an attack that involved both breaking into the castle and killing Voldemort without the help of his head strategist and voice of reason. It also solved the problem of getting food. He didn't want to die before he had a chance to kill Voldemort.

Not wanting to seem too eager, Harry nodded. "Okay."

Judging by the look on Voldemort's face he wasn't too convincing.

"Will I get sorted into a house and stay in the, uhh...with the students?" Harry asked quickly.

"A bit counter productive isn't it, to ask a potential assassin to lodge with the very ones you aim to protect?" Voldemort asked dryly.

Harry blanched. The room felt pretty hot all of a sudden. "I, uh, um.."

"There is no need for anxiety. I am certain you will find your rooms more than adequate, while still being under close enough scrutiny to satisfy the board."

He shifted nervously.

"As a matter of fact, the rooms are connected to-"

"No!" Harry shouted, bringing his hands up. "Anything but that! Pervert! Pedophile! I will never consent to it!" He stepped further away from Voldemort, holding his hands in front of him like a shield. "I _cannot believe _you would use your position in order to-"

Harry never managed to finish as red ropes slung out of Voldemort's wand, wrapping around his ankles and tripping him. He went down with a high pitched cry.

"I will pretend you did not say that. Else I would be forced to remove your tongue. Now," Voldemort said, stepping around so Harry could see him. "Tell me your name so I may inform our transfiguration professor of his new ward."

Harry relaxed. "Harry P-fffttt!" he spluttered, realizing at the last moment what he was about to say.

Voldemort's eyes sharpened. "Excuse me?"

"I-I-I-"

Voldemort crouched down to sit on one knee just beside Harry's head. He kind of looked like he was proposing to someone. The thought was odd, but with his human features intact Voldemort didn't look all that bad.

"What did you say your name was?" Voldemort asked again.

Harry thought quickly. "Jonathan Swift!" he said, shouting out the first name that came to mind.

"Oh. I take it your parents were great fans of Gulliver's Travels?" Voldemort asked, one eyebrow raised.

"...What?"

Voldemort was silent for a moment. He then looked to Dolohov. "Please take Mr. Swift to Albus, and inform him of the changes. I trust you will not lose him on the way."

Harry blinked. He was almost certain something had passed in the moment, yet he could not quite place his finger on it. And who was Gulliver?

_A/N: Voldemort is too smart not to recognize the connection. Harry on the other hand... I bet Hermione tried to shove the books at him while lecturing about the importance of culture. But, you know...  
_

_And folks...you rock! Keep the support coming.  
_


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